


Heated Differences

by Blue_Sparkle



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Comedy of Errors, Crack, Gratuitous Smut, Heats, Humor, M/M, Other, Pre-Relationship, Switching Efforts for Both of them, The Arrangement, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:41:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26549170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Sparkle/pseuds/Blue_Sparkle
Summary: Once, before the Beginning, before the Fall, angels shared their bodies and souls through Heat, building trust and camaraderie. Then the great Fall happened, and angels no longer experience such things.But demons do. Surely.Or: the tale of how neither angels nor demons know that the others no longer have Heats either, but Crowley and Aziraphale are all too ready to lend a helping hand either way.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 55
Kudos: 276





	Heated Differences

**Author's Note:**

> Yes hello, welcome to my latest adventure in writing nonsense and humorous content. 
> 
> This time with "What if they both think the other has Heats in which they need to assist them, but neither actually does."
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Much to his chagrin, it wasn’t Crawly who first noticed the Change. 

It took quite a while for things to really become evident, what with the Fall and everyone settling into the freshly created Hell and licking their wounds, both literally and metaphorically. Satan was off doing _himself-knew-what_ , probably sulking in the deepest pit, and everyone else was too busy cursing and ranting or casually avoiding the angrier demons. Not to mention the concept of linear time was only now starting to work as intended.

Eventually, it was Ligur who paused in the middle of a communal grumping session, looked up suspiciously, and raised his hand. 

“Has anyone actually experienced a Heat since we Fell?”

There was some confused muttering, blinking eyes, mouths opening to say _yes, of course_ , but then… 

“Not me,” Crawly said with a shrug, quickly backed up by several others nodding in agreement. 

Hastur stared at his mate with an open mouth. 

“How long has it been?” he asked, a little nervous. 

“Long enough,” Ligur replied, meeting the eye of the quickly emerging boss of the whole damned lot, Beelzebub, who’s only reaction was a tense shift in their expression. They never did like to show emotions. 

“Did we lose it?” Someone in the crowd asked. “When we took the dive, I mean. Reckon it’s an angelic thing after all.”

More uttered agreement. It made sense that such an inherently good and angelic trait would no longer be something they could experience. Crawly could hear the discussions around him, the worry about whether that was a good thing or bad one (which was good, actually, as they were demons now?) 

“This is to our advantage,” Beelzebub declared, raising their voice enough to shut everyone else up. “No hassle, no distractions. Just focus on taking down the other side.”

To this, the demons agreed. There had been no real benefits to the Heat after all, and this way they could keep their minds focused on showing those tossers upstairs who was boss. Crawly didn’t care either way, but he did have to admit that Heats had been an inconvenience more than anything. And kind of gross to see. 

Heats hadn’t always been physical at all, their origin lay in those first few days of creation where everyone was just flaming wheels and too many eyes and heads and limbs that were in positions that would be workshopped later on. Back then, everyone had been nothing but energy that flowed freely into each other, mingling and sharing thoughts and emotions and individual angels had barely existed. It had been a team bonding exercise. Sharing everything, feeling one another, really truly being one with their brethren. 

Then bodies happened, and individual angels really did start walking around as themselves. Language was a thing, and team bonding shifted to talking and working together and singing Her praises and all that boring stuff. Only the urge to mingle hadn’t disappeared, and with a lack of free flowing energy to mingle, the urge instead translated into physical symptoms. 

It started with heat, hence the cleverly named concept of Heat in general. While not being corporations yet, the angels’ bodies would start growing flushed, showing up pink and red on those whose skin allowed for the visual. Sweat sometimes, being hot to the touch. 

Then came the strange behaviour. Dizziness or mild confusion and distractibility. Cravings for things that were odd. The wish to taste or eat random items. Crawly swore he’d seen Sandalphon lick a wall once. 

And then… well… pain sometimes, discomfort, the inability to do any kind of meaningful work thanks to the previous symptoms getting in the way. The needy search for touch and closeness and intimacy that their new bodies weren’t capable of. And then… 

Well then everyone just fucked. 

It was what Heat led up to, and the closest angels got to the previous intermingling. Sharing body fluids and fucking and even thouching each other on some metaphysical level. It ranged from embarrassing to ‘kind of odd but alright if you were into that sort of thing’. 

Only, it did get in the way. Being interrupted in their work, being irritable or too distracted and making mistakes (Crawly firmly blamed Ligur’s Heats for whatever had happened to the platypus). Then came the attempts to find anyone who was having the very same problem, and getting it out of their system by having a jolly good time - or a mortifying ordeal that was not to be spoken of again. Apparently, the Archangel Gabriel had a tendency to make really disturbing faces that would knock anyone out of amorous moods. 

It was difficult to keep track of too. It was neither regular nor did Heaven have linear time. More than once Crawly had gotten hit by it while working on stars. Nebulas were notoriously hot spaces anyway, so he would blow molten clumps of molecules into spheres, wiping the sweat off his heated brow, only to realize that it wasn’t heat he felt, but Heat.

So perhaps not having it anymore was good. 

“The angels up there really are gonna keep going till eternity,” Hastur said. “Wasting time and not getting any work done.” 

Ligur watched him with an evil little grin (he wasn’t capable of any other kind) and nodded, while Crawly watched a damp slimy something in Hastur’s hair and nodded, glad that he’d never ever have to go through Heat near any other demon. Honestly… yuck. 

Not to mention that team bonding exercises were terrible, and Hell was already perfecting the concept for when there would be enough humans to require something as torturous as this. 

So life in Hell went on, and everyone heartily agreed how neat a thing it was that they did not need to bother with this mess, unlike those wankers up in Heaven. It felt a little like some sort of satanic justice. 

*

“Here is a list of all the plants that will kill you upon contact, and a list of animals that will try to eat you,” Savlaniel recited in a bored tone. 

Aziraphale stood before her and nodded with a nervous smile as the head of Heavenly Relations signed another notebook and slid it to the steadily growing pile in front of him. He hadn’t known just how much paperwork would go into a permanent stationing down on Earth. He wondered if the demon he’d met had to deal with all this nonsense too. 

“You are of course permitted to defend yourself, but only outside the view of humans. Unless you do it in a human way. What constitutes a human way of fighting off a wild animal is left to your discretion, we don’t know what they’ll come up with yet.”

Some of the Archangels were starting to fidget, but nobody dared interrupting Savlaniel. Blessed with endless patience, she nevertheless had the most brutal annoyed stare when bothered, and nobody wanted to upset the HR department. The briefing would be done soon, surely. 

“Edible plants and animals are unknown, you can do what you want there. Again, make sure not to poison your corporation and survive where a human can see.”

Gabriel pulled a face and Savlaniel signed the next booklet to hand Aziraphale. He had already decided that he would read the manuals as carefully as he could, or at least make an attempt. Heavenly manuals rarely were a riveting read. 

“And now the final bit, the matter of Heats.”

At this the Archangels finally looked a little more interested. 

“Oh?” Aziraphale asked, smiling nervously. “Has that been figured out yet?”

No angel had gone through anything remotely similar since the Fall, and an investigation had been launched. It had been a rather tedious business, joyless and awkward and really getting in the way of work. Still, it was a pretty big change, and after losing two thirds of their brethren to the Fall or to destruction nothing was allowed to be left ambiguous. 

“It seems that we no longer experience it,” Savlaniel replied, looking a little bit relieved. It had been bothersome to her entire department. The team bonding had led to mortification and annoyance and a lot of ruined work, leaving HR to try and figure out who did stupid things due to Heat and who was just plain stupid all on their own. 

“Neither do humans. Some animals do, all relative information is in the relevant handbook.”

Gabriel clapped his hands together, a grin spreading on his face. 

“It’s convenient! No more missed work, no more distractions. Don’t think it was ever any good after we started having bodies.”

Aziraphale wisely didn’t say anything to that. Angels who’d witnessed Gabriel’s behaviour doing his own Heats notoriously had lost respect after the fact. Something about acting entirely too foolishly to take seriously. 

“As far as we know the change happened shortly after the Fall,” Uriel threw in. “The Almighty saw that bonding did nothing to prevent traitors from rising up, and we no longer have to go through the motions.”

Aziraphale nodded, quietly glad that he wouldn’t have to figure out Heats while on Earth. Having to pop back into Heaven and missing out on crucial work down there would have been quite a hassle. 

“That will make my job much easier,” he said, smiling, and Gabriel nodded in approval. 

“Naturally! Will give you the edge over the adversary!” 

“How so?”

At this Uriel spoke again. 

“We have no reason to believe that demons were relieved of the Heat. They still go through it, of course, which ought to provide distractions and help you thwart whoever will be sent up.”

Gabriel inclined his head in agreement. 

“Fitting, isn’t it? I always found this quite distasteful ever since things started to get physical too. No wonder those dirty bastards do it still.”

Aziraphale tried to think back to the last time he’d felt the affliction. It was quite a while back, things from before the Beginning being a little hard to place. It had been uncomfortable, yes, and whether or not it was even worth trying to fix the problem strongly depended on how compatible one was with the partner. But the idea of merging their celestial bodies beyond what was visible in this plane of reality was a little nice. Wrapping his wings around someone, pulling someone he enjoyed being around into the circle of his rings… It was apparently rather hard to do without the aid of mutual Heat, and nobody really had time for a true merging of souls anyway.

Well, no use dwelling on that. The concept was better than the reality, as Aziraphale knew. He’d heard enough frustrated accounts from other Principalities finding their partners lacking. And most angels hadn’t really gotten around to figuring out how to pick someone to assist before rational thought became difficult and muddled. It really was best to not experience something than to repeatedly experience a rather mediocre and unsatisfying version of it. 

“I’ll keep an eye out,” Aziraphale agreed, carefully balancing the stacks upon stacks of information on safety measures regarding life on Earth. 

If it were up to him, he’d not read them, figuring that he’d learn along with humans, but Savlaniel was giving him the _look_. 

Gabriel clapped his hands together and Uriel nodded, stepping forward. Her hands were folded in front of her and she extended her wings carefully. It was a bit of a hassle, keeping wings from knocking into things. The visual wasn’t worth the inconvenience, so more and more angels were starting to tuck them away in Heaven too. This was just for ceremony. 

“May you be successful on your mission to spread good among humans,” Uriel spoke. 

“And make sure those demons know who they’re dealing with” Gabriel added with a wink. 

Aziraphale, unsure about what Gabriel wanted him to do specifically, just smiled nervously and stepped out to the platform that would take him back to Earth. 

He had a job to do. 

*

Crowley sipped the wine and watched Aziraphale gush on and on about philosophers he’d met recently. His cheeks were flushed and Crowley could see the faintest sheen of sweat on his neck and collarbones. Occasionally, Aziraphale would adjust his toga to get more comfortable where he was lying. It was a particularly humid day, and a few servants were slowly waving fans in corners. It didn’t do very much for the air circulation, but Crowley appreciated the attempt. He didn’t really mind the temperature at all, though the scents of incense and wine and spices all around him being stuck in the stagnant air were a bit distracting. 

“But you must tell me of the north,” Aziraphale said after a while of discussing the latest cultural advances of Rome, smiling sweetly as Crowley poured him more wine. They’d both already drunk way too much back in the tavern before setting out, at least too much for this early in the day. It was barely past noon after all, but who was keeping score anyway?

“Haven’t been?” Crowley asked, filling his own cup too and then draining it in one long gulp. 

“Oh, I have, here and there. But not Britannia yet. Haven’t gotten an assignment there, and Heaven kept me rather busy around these areas.”

The angel looked off to the side, pouting a little. 

“Always bouncing around, you know. Sometimes I wish I could spend more than one assignment at a time in one specific spot. Just for a little while, mind you, just to get _comfortable_ in a location for a while.”

Crowley raised his eyebrow. The urge to find a nice familiar spot wasn’t one he’d felt in… well, since before the Fall. And it had been easy for him, white hot nebulas were all the same from the inside, after a while. Didn’t matter which he was in for a nap, it all felt nice enough and sleeping tended to take care of problems he didn’t always have a mind to fix...

“It’s kind of… moist.”

Aziraphale looked up at him, interest lighting up his eyes. 

“What do you mean, _moist_? Because of the shores?”

“Nah,” Crowley waved his hands. “Fog. Rains a lot. Rains a lot if you just cross the alps too, of course, but if you’re close to the sea you can sort of taste it in the air.”

He flicked out his tongue to demonstrate and Aziraphale’s eyes briefly darted to Crowley’s mouth, before he looked away and tugged at his collar again, adjusting it absentmindedly. 

He looked warm, and Crowley wondered if he’d feel hot under his palms for a moment. 

They were interrupted in their talk of the weather by their food being brought. Olives and fresh bread and the oysters Aziraphale had proclaimed to have a terrible craving for. And they were… well. 

“They look-” Crowley started to say, but Aziraphale didn’t even pay attention. 

He positively lit up, picking one up and tipping it into his mouth easily. 

“Simply marvelous,” he proclaimed. “You must try them.”

Crowley looked at Aziraphale dubiously, then carefully took an oyster. It had some sort of sauce on it, the tang of lemon mixing with the briny scent of the sea. Crowley really didn’t like the sea all that much, and that little thing in his hands looked slimy and really not like something he’d eat, more like-

Aziraphale was already taking another in hand, tipping it into his mouth and licking his lips with a satisfied and practically indecent moan. Right. 

With one last moment to steel himself Crowley put the oyster’s shell to his mouth and tipped the slimy little thing into his mouth. It was, predictably, disgusting. It felt terrible against his tongue, the texture reminding him of a splattered slug, and the taste entirely too salty and tangy for anything good to register. He swallowed it quickly, glad for his snake reflexes. 

It wasn’t his favourite thing at all, but Aziraphale was _clearly_ enjoying himself. Very much so, if his little delighted noises were any indication. Crowley couldn’t help but watch, eyes fixed on the way Aziraphale’s throat moved as he swallowed, the way he licked his glistening lips. It was easy to shuffle the oysters on the plate, moving his own share towards Aziraphale and tugging the empty shells towards himself. 

He watched Aziraphale carefully, trying to make sense of what he was seeing in the angel’s behaviour. Crowley really hadn’t seen this sort of thing since before the Fall. 

When Aziraphale reached for the wine between them his hands were trembling slightly and Crowley had involuntarily leaned forward quite a bit. When Aziraphale inevitably knocked over his half full cup, clumsy from the wine or something else entirely, Crowley’s hand shot forward to right it, bringing him even closer to Aziraphale. He was close enough to _smell_ now, and Aziraphale looked up with eyes blown dark, lips parted and his breath catching. His hand reached out all by itself really. 

“Angel,” Crowley whispered, voice rough. His hand was on Aziraphale’s exposed knee now, the skin was near feverish under his touch. As someone who rarely ever touched humans at all, it was hard to tell how hot compared to the average this was, but there was _heat_ under Crowley’s hands, and he just knew.

He stared at Aziraphale intently, looking over the top of his dark glasses and Aziraphale swallowed thickly. 

“Are you…” the angel asked, glancing around nervously. “Do you- ah. I suppose this is a delicate situation, but-”

Aziraphale made some nonsensical hand gestures, clearly unsure of how to convey his need into words other than gesturing between himself and Crowley. 

“Yes.” Crowley replied simply. Of course he wouldn’t leave the angel hanging like that. Yes, perhaps it would be best to just leave Aziraphale to suffer alone, like he must have in the past couple millenia. Angels still retained their Heat, and from what Crowley remembered, it would make his adversary unable to work, unable to thwart, for as long as it lasted. 

But honestly, there wasn’t very much to thwart at the moment. Everything Crowley had been sent to do, the humans were happy to do themselves without any hellish inspiration. Both he and Aziraphale could take the year off and Rome would be just as damned as without either of their presence.

And… well… Crowley did like Aziraphale, and he certainly was rather fond of the silly thing. The undemonic affection was perhaps something Crowley ought to stuff into the furthest corners of his mind and then lock up, but wasn’t it a demon’s job to do what he wanted and break rules? Hell shouldn’t be surprised if _their_ rules were bent a little bit. 

Honestly, helping Aziraphale have an easier time would be akin to taking advantage and exploring his tender affections under the guise of helping out. At least, that’s what he’d say if he was ever asked. 

Aziraphale looked at Crowley for a few moments, then smiled sweetly. 

“Well, I suppose we should go somewhere a little more private then.”

*

Crowley’s hand was searing hot against Aziraphale’s as the demon pulled him along to his modest domicile. It wasn’t very far from Petronius’ restaurant, but Aziraphale could tell that Crowley was twitchy and walking oddly. 

His face was flushed, and he still had that odd expression on his face. It was one of the first things that had tipped Aziraphale off on what kind of condition his companion was surely suffering from. 

The main symptom was the heat, obviously. Then came the odd behaviour, the foul mood, as mood swings in the negative direction had been rather common back in Heaven. The distractibility, the way Crowley would sometimes gaze off into the distance only to forcefully focus on the here and now. The stiffness in his posture was another indication. 

Aziraphale had felt rather terrible when he figured it out. It was standard protocol to consider the enemy being in Heat to be a good thing. It did permit for some time to work without any wiles to thwart and without keeping your guard up. It was a good thing that angels weren’t burdened by such a distasteful little thing anymore (much as Aziraphale missed the bonding aspect of it) and that demons still went through such barbaric urges. So, while Aziraphale really did want to offer, it was against the rules, against every protocol. Not to mention that it would be terribly forward to be anywhere near a demon at all. 

He wondered how often Crowley had gone through all this before. It was unlikely that humans had helped him out, as one did tend to lose control over their miracles and corporation. So however many times the Heat had occurred, it probably wasn’t pleasant. 

But then Crowley had touched him, had stared at Aziraphale as if he just had a revelation of sorts, and pretty much _asked_ for help in something so unspeakable… 

How could an angel, a being of love, deny such a plea? 

That Crowley was easy to look at and wonderful to be around certainly didn’t make this a hardship either. In fact, Aziraphale had to admit that he was somewhat eager to reach the demon’s home and get to it. While he himself wasn’t ever going to experience a Heat again, and thus wouldn’t be able to fully dip into the metaphysical aspect of it all, Aziraphale did miss the connection terribly. 

Though sobered up, Aziraphale still felt quite drunk and giddy when Crowley led him into his house and then up the stairs to the bedroom. Red silk curtains were drawn back to reveal a rather wide mattress, and as Crowley sat down Aziraphale was suddenly struck with how nervous he was. Excited, but also nervous.

“How do you want to start?” Aziraphale asked him, hoping to be as considerate as possible. It was Crowley who had to deal with the Heat after all. 

Crowley reached down to remove his sandals and then started shedding his toga and various pins and belts. 

“Guess we should just-” he waved his hand around vaguely. “Foreplay?”

Aziraphale didn’t need to be told twice. In a flash he was on the bed and gently nudging at Crowley’s knees to guide him into spreading his legs. Crowley let out a startled sound but immediately let himself drop down against his pillows and relaxed to let the angel manhandle him as he pleased. 

“A warm-up first?” Aziraphale suggested. 

Crowley whimpered, his cheeks flushed harder than before, and nodded eagerly. Heat did make one get into everything much quicker than under normal circumstances, speeding any arousal along. Though Aziraphale was hardly one to judge, as his own cock was definitely straining against the fabric of his tunic at the mere idea of all the things they were about to do. 

He licked his lips and gently slid Crowley’s own clothes aside. Then he paused, surprised at what he found. 

“Is that a cunt?” he asked, glancing up at Crowley with a raised brow. “Since when?”

He had expected something else. Not two hours ago he’d caught the occasional accidental glance at the way Crowley’s clothes draped. There had definitely been a bulge there before, just based on how the black fabric lay across his lap and moved as he walked. Not that he’d been looking _too_ hard.

Crowley threw an arm over his eyes, hissing quietly. 

“Since I watched you- hhg.”

“Watched me at what, dear boy?”

“The oysters, alright?” Crowley snapped. “It was watching you eat up those oysters! Now can you just get on with it?”

Right, irritability and impatience were part of the experience. Who was Aziraphale to judge what was going on between Crowley’s legs when he himself switched things up based on how forgiving his clothing choices were… 

Without further ado, and without letting the poor demon suffer another second, Aziraphale dove in. The first taste of Crowley’s core was simply divine, or infernal perhaps. He’d definitely get a smack on the head from the demon for daring to think of his cunt in any heavenly terms. 

Crowley let out a choked cry, his legs twitching against Aziraphale’s hands where he held him open. It was salty and rich, the flavour perhaps even better than the meal they’d shared, the scent of burned sugar somehow the best thing he had ever smelled, and coming from a demon no less! Aziraphale couldn’t help but moan as he ran his tongue against all of Crowley, ending on a light nudge against the demon’s clit. 

The demon’s skin under his palms _burned_ , and Aziraphale felt drunk on the taste under his tongue. Crowley was making high pitched noises, kneeing and twitching under the angel’s touch. If Aziraphale’s grip wasn’t so strong he was sure he’d thrash right up and away from him. As if the enjoyment was too much, as if Crowley couldn’t decide whether to push closer to Aziraphale or escape his touch and the pleasure that was quickly becoming overwhelming. Aziraphale briefly wondered whether he ought to give the poor darling a break, when he felt Crowley’s hand grip tight against his hair, pushing him down, urging him on. 

Crowley came with a soundless exhale, back arching off the bed and fingers clawing at Aziraphale’s hair in a way that was much too arousing for the pain it caused. 

Aziraphale kissed and licked him through it, until Crowley slumped back down bonelessly, patting at his head. 

“Too much,” he whispered in a quiet hiss, and Aziraphale obediently rolled away, trying to subtly adjust his own robes to hide just how aroused helping out had made him. It was natural though, in such a situation. Even if he himself didn’t have certain urges that made life difficult for a bit, Aziraphale still had a body that reacted to pleasure and intimate moments. 

Crowley watched his movements through hooded eyes.

“What now?” Aziraphale asked, trying not to sound too eager and failing. In his experience the Heat was seldom something that could be solved with only one orgasm, no matter how nice. 

“Now?” Crowley said, licking his lips. “Now I think you should fuck me.”

And who was Aziraphale to need to be told twice?

*

Afterwards they lay on Crowley’s bed, breathing calmly once more. 

Crowley looked out towards the open window. He could see the moon sickle from his position as the hot summer day had finally given way to a pleasant night. The cool breeze brushing against his skin was a small luxury, as was the soft body pressed against his. Aziraphale was naked, he’d shed his layers after giving Crowley the first mind blowing orgasm. Of course the angel would be selfless and generous even with his affliction. They were curled up together, Aziraphale taking a nap and Crowley playing with his hair idly. 

He’d lost counts how many times either of them had climaxed, but that didn’t matter. It was the quality, not quantity, that made Heat go away quicker, and evidently Crowley had provided a good service there. Aziraphale was back to the faint rosiness of his cheeks, his skin was just about as warm as one would expect a human shaped being to be. It had passed then, which meant Aziraphale wouldn’t have to go through however long it took for Heat to go away on its own. Of course, there was always the option of finding an interested human, or sometimes even a brothel. Somehow Crowley doubted that Aziraphale would want to impose on humans with something like this, though. 

“Feeling alright?” Crowley asked when Aziraphale stirred from his doze. The angel blinked up at him from where his cheek was pressed against Crowley’s shoulder. 

“Never better. I feel rather well rested.”

Crowley hummed in acknowledgement and looked on to the window. 

“You can stay the night, if you want? Wouldn’t be imposing,” he added quickly when he saw Aziraphale open his mouth to protest. 

The angel looked at him for a moment longer, then smiled. 

“You know, I could go for a whole night’s sleep.”

“Wouldn’t be the whole night anymore.”

“Still.”

They lay quietly after that, and Crowley tried very hard not to feel selfish for helping his angel as Aziraphale drifted back to sleep. 

*

It became somewhat of a routine. Certainly Aziraphale wasn’t present for each of Crowley’s Heats, as it was decades, and mostly centuries, that passed in between those times. When they met up between such occasions neither of them really brought it up. There was an easy sort of understanding regarding the matter, and Aziraphale saw it as something entirely separate from their other interactions. 

Sex to help someone you got along with during their Heat didn’t mean anything at all. It was nice, yes, and it was a kindness, but Aziraphale figured that in the worst case of Heaven finding out they wouldn’t even mind too much. Yes, he was helping the enemy regain their senses sooner, but it was something casual, something one might have done for angels one didn’t know back in the day. 

So long as there were no other emotions attached, so long as they were enemies at any other time. 

Crowley never really sought Aziraphale out when he was hit by his affliction, and at the times Aziraphale noticed it the demon also didn’t like speaking about it. There was an understanding between them, subtle hints and touches where usually they wouldn’t even dare brush fingers when the time was upon them. 

They shared in Crowley’s Heat in a cottage in the woods and a pavilion overlooking the ocean and in hastily rented rooms while pretending to be a married couple if either of them looked more like a woman to humans that day. Aziraphale would help Crowley, and afterwards they would hold each other, share a drink, share some food, and then move on. The next time they met they acted as if the Heat had never happened. 

“Perhaps we should include this,” Aziraphale waved his hand around vaguely, looking down at where Crowley was resting his head against the angel’s stomach. “In the Arrangement.”

Crowley looked at him for a long moment, eyes unguarded. Heats were the only times Aziraphale really got to see the demon’s bare yellow eyes ever since humans had invented sunglasses. 

“It’s all about lending a helping hand,” Aziraphale went on, blushing slightly. “If either of us is near, when it… oh. You know.”

It felt a little silly to enjoy the times he helped out Crowley. It didn’t mean anything, but it was still a few hours of warm touches and someone leaning against his body solidly. Aziraphale was only helping, he knew this. But it was nice. It was companionship. And he knew that Crowley was too proud to admit that he needed assistance. He was a demon after all, couldn’t show vulnerability, couldn’t show that he needed someone’s help. 

Aziraphale himself danced around the subject, he had to admit. So perhaps it did delight him when Crowley swooped in and helped him out in thousands of subtle ways when Aziraphale only hinted. But, well. He was an angel, and he couldn’t very well ask a _demon_ for help. Yet Crowley always knew somehow, and always did what Aziraphale wanted. It was only fair to offer that same plausible deniability in asking for help to Crowley in turn. 

“Sure,” Crowley agreed easily. “Might make things easier if I know you’re nearby and help might be needed.”

*

His angel was phenomenally stupid at times, given how clever he was under normal circumstances. Crowley wasn’t even sure if he could blame it entirely on the Heat even. Every two or three centuries Aziraphale would find himself in a spot of trouble more severe than the usual tiny grievances that Crowley lovingly fixed for him. Crowley rushed in to help whenever he could, ever galant and showing his affections in all the ways that were permitted. That he had accidentally kicked off a romantic trope in any culture they both hung around in too much was good (or bad rather) even, given that his attempts to wordlessly show his own affections to the angel just set unrealistic expectations for humanity. 

Still, sometimes Crowley went to investigate what was going on with his angel, assuming it was something minor, only to find that Aziraphale was apparently in the “doing extremely stupid things for no particular reason” stage of Heat. Sometimes he wished Aziraphale would write him a letter requesting a good dicking _before_ he got his pretty neck dangerously close to being cut in half. 

In his most pathetic moments, Crowley hoped that Aziraphale expecting a dashing rescue was his own way to show affection, much like Crowley liked to provide a kindness to his angel.

Heats, Crowely had to admit, were a mixed bag. On one hand they apparently caused Aziraphale to dance about the world, heedless of discorporation looming around the corner. On the other… 

Well…

A demon couldn’t love an angel, couldn’t make love to one either. But helping out during a Heat? Well, the mechanics of stick naughty bits together until orgasms happened were pretty darn close. And watching Aziraphale lose himself while Crowley fucked him slow and nice? Also a rather neat reward for helping out in the angel’s moment of need. 

Sometimes Crowley felt nearly guilty for enjoying this so much. It felt somewhat selfish to cherish those moments he got to love Aziraphale when all the angel needed was simple assistance in something he had no influence on. Then again, some demons would have let Aziraphale suffer and go on to do all sorts of wicked things with the adversary out of the picture. And wasn’t a kind action supposed to make you feel good?

So Crowley kept going with helping Aziraphale, and if the angel gave him strangely tender looks afterwards? Well. That might just be his imagination after all. 

*

Armageddon came and went, nothing really changed. They had royally pissed off their head offices, of course. Crowley had gotten to spit fire on Aziraphale’s shitty boss (he remembered Gabriel from before and, by someone, what a prick he was) and Aziraphale had in turn scared off all of Hell. 

They went out, dined, took a turn about the park, and then walked back to Aziraphale’s bookshop. 

Inside was pleasantly warm, and the light barely made it inside, creating comfortable and familiar shadows. The angel and the demon stood in the entrance for a moment, and then turned to look at each other. 

“We survived,” Aziraphale said, a strange expression in his eyes. 

“Sure did,” Crowley confirmed easily. 

And then Aziraphale’s arms were around his neck and an angelic tongue was pushing its way past his lips. 

Crowley had no complaints about that. Or Aziraphale’s hands finding their way down his pants. Or about how their clothes were scattered through the entire shop on their way to the sofa. It was relief and passion and the most intense thing and when yet more of Aziraphale slipped into more interesting places Crowley just stopped questioning the situation altogether. 

The next morning he woke up with Aziraphale curled around him, arms holding him close. They’d somehow made it to the bed, with lots of stops between the sofa and up the stairs (that one had hurt his spine) and the hallway. With a pleased smile, Crowley realized that this was the first time he’d ever really spent the night with Aziraphale. Any previous time either he or Aziraphale would get up as the sun rose and be on their way. Or they’d not go to bed at all, finishing their post Heat cuddles and then going about their day right after. 

This… meant something for sure. And Aziraphale certainly hadn’t been in Heat either.

When Aziraphale finally woke up, his cheek sported a pillow crease and his eyes were adorably bleary.

“Hello,” he said, voice rough from sleep (and Crowley’s amazing sexual prowess obviously).

“Hello,” Crowley replied, unable to keep the dopey smile off his face. What did it matter now, he wasn’t technically in Hell’s employ, he could be silly at times if he wanted. 

He reached out to cradle Aziraphale’s cheek in his hand, delighted at how the angel leaned into the touch and then scooted closer to his beloved. He felt shy, all of a sudden, despite having had Aziraphale’s Effort in various openings just the night before, not to mention all the centuries preceding that. 

“This is real now, isn’t it?” Aziraphale asked. 

Unsure of what exactly he was referring to, Crowley nodded. Their freedom, the ability to be together, their obvious affection to each other… It all was. 

“Lets go get breakfast,” Aziraphale suggested. “At the cafe down the road!”

Crowley briefly struggled with his desire to stay in bed and hold his angel before deciding that he did very much like to go out like that. Watching Aziraphale eat and enjoying himself, soaking up the morning sun, being out in the world together. Nobody would be able to deny that they were _together_ , that they belonged to one another. So he heaved himself out of bed and gathered his clothes and watched fondly as Aziraphale adjusted his own bowtie. 

“Come along then,” Crowley said, offering up his arm half in jest. His heart did a funny skip when Aziraphale smiled and actually took it, linking them together. They’d never so much as brushed hands while walking down a street before, and the sensation was such that Crowley had to check if he wasn’t physically floating over the pavement. 

After that, their interactions became strange. Good strange, but nevertheless. 

Aziraphale now kept batting his eyes at Crowley in rather obvious ways. He’d hint at wanting flowers or chocolates or any such treat, and Crowley would get anything for him in a heartbeat, basking in the angel’s smiles. Or Crowley would stare longingly at his angel for a beat too long, and Aziraphale would scoot closer on a bench, take his hand, tangle their feet together under a table. They’d never touched this much (apart from the instances of Heat related sexual escapades of course) and Crowley felt like his heart would burst from his chest at any given moment. 

Strangely enough, they stopped fucking.

For creatures that had seen each other naked and up close with various nuances in physical appearance and Efforts, suddenly it seemed just a tad too fast. Something about this was a courtship, and Crowley could feel the sweet thrill of anticipation. Now that Aziraphale was more than happy to return his advances, Crowley didn’t mind waiting and longing. It didn’t feel painful at all, to know that their interactions were leading to a full blown relationship. This was nothing like the times they’d been together in secret and out of necessity. They had to feel their way through the dark hallway of their separation from Heaven and Hell and towards the light switch of a true relationship. Neither knew what they were doing, and Crowley did enjoy speeding through the courtship he’d never been able to initiate properly. The sweetness of it, the quietly whispered confessions and declarations… 

And it wasn’t as if things were _completely_ chaste. 

There were innocent kisses at the doorstep to the bookshop, of course, as Aziraphale took great delight in being escorted home. But, sometimes, their evenings would end on the couch, with them making out, hands firmly above their waists (how good then, that Aziraphale was rather sensitive along his ribs and would squirm and whine against Crowley’s mouth when touched). 

The best part was the casual stuff though. Crowley was now welcome to actually stay at the bookshop for as long as he liked (as long as he didn’t interrupt Aziraphale if the angel had something to occupy him). Crowley would stretch out on the couch, scrolling on his phone or napping, and inevitably Aziraphale would end up on the opposite end of it, the demon’s legs on his lap and hand resting on Crowley’s ankle as he read. Such closeness with no further intent was better than the hottest bath and longest nap. 

It was on one of those occasions that Aziraphale ran his hand over Crowley’s shins, lowered his book, and sighed in that wistfully delighted way that Crowley associated with the trashy bodice rippers Aziraphale claimed not to own. Crowley lowered his own phone, looking up at Aziraphale questioningly. 

“Everything alright, angel?” he asked, glancing down at Aziraphale’s book. Accounts of 16th century farming techniques didn’t tend to lend themselves to wistfulness.

“Of course, darling,” Aziraphale said, glancing down at Crowley with a soft look. “I was just thinking about how it used to be, back in Heaven before things got complicated with corporations and all that. How ah… certain afflictions would permit two angels to fully meld in… well I suppose soul, since bodies didn’t get involved.”

Crowley snorted. He remembered, of course. Heats had been a hassle up in Heaven, given that he was often too engrossed in the furnaces of the star workshops, and then had to suffer discomfort for his negligence. At least demons no longer had to deal with this.

“You know, I always wondered what it might be like,” Aziraphale said. “Heats of course were quite a pragmatic thing to help out with, but only those who actually shared a bond would ever merge. I was never fortunate enough to share such a connection with another angel.”

At this Aziraphale’s face fell, and Crowley could just tell how his angel was considering the Heavenly Host’s disdain for him. Then Aziraphale let out another sigh and looked at Crowley with a fond smile. 

“So you see, my dear. I’ve never been sure if such melding is possible without a mutual Heat. And this led me to wish that we both could still experience a Heat. Alas, it’s been so long since we stopped having them, I can’t even remember what it feels like.”

Aziraphale picked his book back up as Crowley tensed, brow furrowed. He stared at his angel for a few beats, then tucked his phone between the couch’s cushions. 

“Hold up, angel. What do you mean… you can’t even remember?”

Aziraphale gave Crowley a pointed look over the edge of his little reading glasses. 

“Well, dear, of course we don’t know when it stopped exactly, but it must have been since all the demons Fell. So a little over six thousand years, and then however long it’s been since I had my very last. I really never kept track of things before time was invented.”

“But-” Crowley scrambled to sit up, pulling his legs away from Aziraphale’s lap (who looked quite cross at that) and kneeling on the couch, frown deepening still. “But you _have_ Heats! You’ve had them all this time, the last was just a few decades ago!”

It was the 1990s and Aziraphale had cried out under Crowley’s touches on the backseat of the Bentley, his legs held in the demon’s vice like grip lest he kick through one of the windows as Crowley fucked him silly. That had very much been a Heat!

“Don’t be silly,” Aziraphale snapped. “I haven’t had a Heat since before humans were created. What are you talking about?”

“Then what about all those times,” Crowley demanded, waving his hands around frantically, trying to indicate the flow of time. “I’ve helped you through so many, didn’t I? All those times we bumped uglies throughout history?”

He watched as Aziraphale’s brow furrowed too. 

“Why, that was to assist _you_ during your Heat. You might have been the adversary, but I couldn’t leave you in distress after all.”

“Demons don’t have Heats,” Crowley said. “Didn’t have any since the Fall.”

“That’s absurd,” Aziraphale replied, shaking his head. “Of course you do, I personally have been helping you since Rome-”

He stopped, and Crowley watched as the realization dawned on Aziraphale.

“Oh- oh my,” the angel choked out, his face heating up. He leaned forward, hiding behind his hands. “You mean, this entire time-”

“Yeah, been fucking under false pretenses, both of us,” Crowley hissed out nervously. “I thought _you_ were the one who needed help. Could never resist you batting your eyes at me, could I?”

Aziraphale let out a distressed whine. 

“I’m so sorry. I really shouldn’t have… I was so sure you needed my help, I justified it in my head in case anyone ever found out. I’m so sorry, my darling.”

They stared at each other for a moment, before Crowley let out a barking laugh, leaving Aziraphale to pout at him prettily.

“To think, all this time we were too worried about what our Headoffices would do if they found out about certain tender feelings,” Crowley explained. “And we were still shagging each other silly at the thinnest of pretenses.”

Aziraphale’s lips quirked in that way they did when the angel was trying his hardest to hide a smile. 

“Well,” the angel said, sitting up a bit more properly. “I can’t say it wasn’t _enjoyable_ at least.”

Crowley threw him a smug look, and finally Aziraphale let his smile shine through. 

“Why do you think merging like in the good old days isn’t possible?” Crowley asked then, remembering what had started the revelation. 

“Well, it hasn’t ever been done since before… everything was rearranged upstairs. I assume it hasn’t been done in Hell either, now that I know the prerequisite isn’t possible for your former colleagues either.”

Crowley thought about that, imagining anyone in Hell opening up their very core to trust and intimacy. 

“Nah,” he replied. “Don’t think most demons are stupid enough to trust each other with something like this.”

“And in Heaven it was just not attempted, not with the Heat no longer being of any concern,” Aziraphale added, his lips pursed. 

Both stared off into nothing for a moment, imagining the possibility or romance, or even just intimate companionship blossoming in their respective former homes. The idea of angels attempting anything as vulnerable and potentially messy as merging True Forms seemed… well, Crowley couldn’t imagine angels even so much as allowing exhaustion to show. Not that those jerks even know what that was. 

“Nobody tried before, did they though?” Crowley asked, leaning forward with a sudden eagerness. He’d never really thought about it much, but… Aziraphale was right. Merging essences like that was rather intimate and lovely, in theory, and if all parties involved actually liked one another. 

“I’m sure, but it has always been part of the Heat, before,” Aziraphale said, and Crowley pushed on. 

“You don’t know if anyone tried. And even so, no angel ever thought to try and possess someone. I don’t think most demons tried to stop time either.”

Crowley could feel the thrill of the mere possibility vibrating in his wings, in a dimension one step to the side. Suddenly he wanted for this to be something that was possible, something he desperately wanted to try with Aziraphale. 

“Oh, I suppose you are right,” Aziraphale said then, cheeks flushed and eyes shining in delight. “But even if it were possible, there is no way of telling if it’s safe. We still are a bit different at the core.”

“We also didn’t know if swapping bodies would do any good,” Crowley shrugged. “There’s only one way to find out, angel.”

Aziraphale bit his lip, looking away and then back at Crowley. 

“I suppose you’re right,” he said, desire flashing in his eyes. “And I have nothing else to do this afternoon.”

*

They lay down on Aziraphale’s soft bed, clothes carefully folded away on the armchair, hands linked and bodies flush together. Crowley couldn’t help but feel a little physically excited at the prospect of metaphysical love making, and judging by Aziraphale’s shining eyes and pleasure flushed face he wasn’t alone in that. 

“Oh, I do hope nothing happens to our corporations as we try this,” Aziraphale said, smiling when Crowley squeezed his hand reassuringly. 

“Don’t worry angel, the bookshop is locked and warded, neither of us has anywhere to be, and this bed is big and soft so that’s alright too.”

They closed their eyes, holding each other, as they stepped out of the physical world, into the dark gold glow of the metaphysical realm, currently empty here, safe for the two of them.

Crowley felt his being unfurl. His head and torso were made of dark black and red mist, glimmering like galaxies of dark stars, a snake like tail stretching out into the distance. Many spindly pairs of arms surrounded him, floating gently in his wake with clawed hands relaxed, not grasping or prodding at anything for once. 

Before him a glowing orb slowly took form, golden rings surrounding the Principality’s core, like the gilded frame of an ancient elaborate compass. The angel in the middle was human shaped, liquid gold and white, his wings stretching out with hundreds of eyes blinking up at Crowley from them, and several pairs of smaller wings surrounding his head like a crown. He was flawless, his body soft and smooth curves, fissures running across his chest and legs where he’d been hurt by something celestial once, and feathers just as soft as they looked in the physical world. 

“Oh, Crowley, but aren’t you lovely?” Aziraphale cried out. Crowley couldn’t blush, but he felt the light in him pulse under the admiring gaze of his beloved. 

“Used to look much different. Like a nebula. Now that was lovely.”

He slid through the ether and the rings stopped their rotation to let the majority of Crowley’s long serpentine body pass through. When Aziraphale reached out several of his arms stretched out in turn, spindly fingers clasping the angel’s soft and warm ones. It was like a spark shooting through him, exquisite in its pleasure from the simplest of touches. 

“Oh fuck,” Crowley hissed out, watching as black and gold sparks rose from their joined hands. 

“Quite,” Aziraphale agreed, voice breathless though there wasn’t even any air to breathe where they were now. 

“So do we just-” several of Crowley’s arms waved around for emphasis. “Do it like we’d do it carnally? Just without bits?”

In response Aziraphale wrapped his arms around Crowley’s waist, both crying out with the intensity of the touch. They rubbed together, gasping and sparks flying around them, near blinding. 

“Oh, oh Crowley,” Aziraphale gasped against Crowely’s chest, nuzzling in and knocking all coherent thought out of him. “ _Oh_ I can feel everything so much.”

Crowley whined, and then let out a sharp yell when something crushed against his tail. Both startled and turned around, to see that Aziraphale’s rings had started to rotate in his excitement again, two of them trapping Crowley’s tail between them. 

Aziraphale sputtered an apology, quickly releasing his hold as Crowley gingerly pulled his tail all the way in, careful to keep it well within the circle of Aziraphale’s smallest ring. It still left enough room for the angel’s full wing span, so while the demon coiling inside took up some space, it was more cozy than cramped. 

“There, don’t want you to chop me in half.”

Aziraphale laughed and Crowley couldn’t stay mad at the involuntary reaction. The hands that weren’t touching his angel were flexing and doing jazz hands behind him as well, so he wasn’t one to speak. They wrap themselves around each other again, Crowley’s tail around Aziraphale’s legs, the angel’s wings pulling the demon closer. 

They pressed their faces together, nuzzling together in lack of mouths to kiss with. The wings around Aziraphale’s head flapped in excitement, hitting Crowley’s head, so he reached up to smooth them down gently. Aziraphale let out a moan, and then more and more hands joined in until the angel let ough a nervous cough. 

“Darling, this feels nice, but ah. I can’t move with you doing that.”

Crowley immediately released the hold of half a dozen hands on Aziraphale’s arms, dizzy with the sensations. He could feel everything now, his own pleasure, the sparks of heat coming from Aziraphale, the angel’s own feelings responding to Crowley’s, both of them in a feedback loop of rising pleasure. 

They both cried out with it, pressing closer. Crowley was vaguely aware of the very essence of his body dissolving where he was touching Aziraphale, gold and black and red flowing freely into each other, firing up in a kind of ecstasy he couldn’t remember feeling at any point before or after time began. 

“Oh fuck,” they both cried out, thougths and voices mingling, the border between both of them breaking down. 

It was too much, not enough, Aziraphale had been right to yearn and wonder about this, Heaven and Hell were missing out on the true meaning of life. Crowley literally couldn’t tell where his body ended and Aziraphale began, in the few moments he could break through the haze of his enjoyment to actually process visual cues, it looked like he and Aziraphale had blended together like two colourful drops of water splashing together. 

It was… well, it was like sex and cigaretts and a good meal and flipping off Satan before taking a backwards dive out of Hell and yelling at God with the satisfaction of being right. 

It was oysters and Aziraphale’s mouth on him, of his hands on the angel’s body. 

It was…

Let us just say, that there is no way a human could possibly feel this way unless they consume absurd amounts of illegal substances or a particularly nice dish their grandma made that one time. You know the one. 

*

Crowley woke up with the familiar numbness of having slept for longer than a human could have possibly hoped to. His body felt odd for a few moments, as if the limbs had forgotten how to exist or be connected to his mind. He sniffed, trying to determine how much time had passed. No less than one week, if he judged the feeling right. 

Next to him Aziraphale let out a soft whine, unused to sleeping, and never staying asleep for longer than a full night. Waking up after so long probably wasn’t pleasant all at once. 

“Oh… oh good lord,” Aziraphale let out, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as Crowley grinned at him.

He looked beautifully tousled, his white curls a mess. Then Aziraphale glanced down and let out another odd noise. 

“Oh good _lord_!”

Crowley looked down and found both their bodies covered in as much questionable substances as an especially noteworthy orgy might produce, in various degrees of age. 

“How did that happen?” Aziraphale complained as Crowley tried to choke back a laugh. 

“Guess our corporations had to react. As an outlet to. You know. That.”

Aziraphale tutted. 

“ _That_ was a profound experience of divine ecstasy and-”

“Really fucking hot,” Crowley threw in. 

Aziraphale glared for a moment, before his lips quirked in a pleased little smile. 

“Oh it rather was.”

“Excellent.”

“Marvelous.”

“Bit exhausting.”

Crowley tried to stretch out the stiffness in his body as Aziraphale agreed. 

“Something best saved as a treat for very special occasions.”

His eyes glimmered eagerly, and Crowley knew that the special occasion would come sooner rather than later. 

“Yeah,” Crowley agreed. “But how about a spot of lunch first, angel?”

Aziraphale threw him a look full of love and appreciation. 

“I do believe we should have a meal after all this, yes. Oh, but what to choose from?”

He sat up and reached for his clothes, still smiling as Crowley watched him fondly. 

“You know angel, I’m rather in the mood for oysters.”


End file.
